Pattycake
by shipper-swabbie
Summary: Emma comes home with a very large, overstuffed grocery bag. Mary Margaret is puzzled. Platonic Em&MM. Fluffy one-shot. One mild swear. Pre-finale. Reviews are loved tenderly.


**A/N:** So, I wanted to write a little platonic Mary Margaret/Emma fluff, and this came to be. It took a lot longer than I expected to finish, but I'm pretty happy with the outcome. I hope you like it too, dearest reader. Also it's a oneshot. Don't ask me to continue this please, it won't happen.

A million and one thanks to **la lisboa **for her incredible beta work! She has the patience of a _saint_, and you should all go read her stories! NOW! GO!  
... well, maybe read this first... THEN GO!

**Disclaimer:** OUAT IZ NOT MINE, but I think you know that already, dearest reader.

* * *

It was late afternoon on a week night when Mary Margaret decided to cut loose and have a glass of wine.

She sat at the kitchen island and stared at the doorway. It was almost an hour past the time when she expected her room-mate home and wondered, though without serious concern, why Emma might be running late.

As if on cue, Mary Margaret heard a soft thud at the doorway, followed closely by a muffled, acidic curse.

There was a brief shuffle, the jingle of keys, a wiggled doorknob, and the old door swung open to reveal dark, knee-high biker boots, dark skinny jeans, and an overstuffed grocery bag.

Mary Margaret blinked at the figure before her. "Uhm. Do you need any help?"

"Nope!" the grocery bag insisted.

There was a shuffle, another muffled curse, an exaggerated heave, and the grocery bag was deposited on the counter-top (at the expense of the toaster, which clattered on the floor with obnoxious and destructive volume). Emma stepped out from behind the over-stuffed sack.

She seemed troubled. Rather than asking her room-mate straight out, Mary Margaret set aside her wine, retrieved what was left of the toaster, and watched patiently as Emma emptied everything on the counter, examining the contents of the bag as if she were interrogating a suspect.

"Mary Margaret, do I have everything I need? I bought two bags of flour, just to be sure. And I can never remember if you need baking soda or baking powder, so I just bought both-"

"Emma-"

"Is he allergic to eggs? I know lots of kids are. Should I just use a substitute? Oh no, _peanuts. _What if he's allergic to peanuts? I didn't check the labels-"

"Emma, what-"

"Do you think you can help me?" Emma pleaded.

Mary Margaret shook her head good-humouredly. "First you need to tell me what you're doing."

"Oh. It's Henry's birthday."

"That's right! But how did you...?"

Emma raised an eyebrow indignantly.

"Right," Mary Margaret replied sheepishly.

"It's my first year with him, and I need to make sure everything is perfect."

"So you're making him a cake?"

"Yeah! Didn't I mention that?"

Mary Margaret simply chuckled in response. "You should have mentioned it sooner, I have most of this stuff already. You could have saved some time, and money," Mary Margaret said, examining the contents, which included not one, but two boxes of cake mix, as well as all the ingredients needed to construct one from scratch, three different kinds of sugar, two bags of jelly beans, and a virtual vat of variety sprinkles. "This is a little, uh, _excessive." _Mary Margaret paused and nibbled on her bottom lip for a moment. "Did you hang on to the receipt by any chance?"

"No way!" Emma scoffed. "Those things always blow away the second I'm out the door, anyway."

"Okay, then," Mary Margaret started with reserve. Clearly Emma had never baked a cake before. Mary Margaret wasn't even sure where they should start. "What kind of cake did you have in mind?"

"Uhm..."

* * *

They had decided on marble cake. Emma insisted on chocolate icing, but it was Mary Margaret who had the extraordinary genius to sprinkle cinnamon on top of the frosting.

And for a delightful change of pace, Emma was doing the dishes.

"Thank you for washing up!"

"Mary Margaret, it was the least I could do, you just made my kid a birthday cake!"

"That's not necessarily true, you helped a lot!"

Emma chortled sceptically, "Yeah, I helped by preheating the oven..."

"The cake wouldn't have baked without it!"

"And licking the beaters."

"Why waste water doing a pre-wash rinse if you could do a better job yourself?"

"_Please_, you even frosted the damn thing!"

"Well, Emma, if you hadn't started stabbing the cake with the icing bag, I would have let you finish," she stated patiently.

Emma pulled the plug in the sink and gave her room-mate a piqued glance over her shoulder. Mary Margaret just smiled innocently.

"But really," Emma said, drying her hands, "thanks! You're really good at all this..." she paused, searching for the right term, "maternal stuff."

Mary Margaret's face fell. "Maternal?"

"You know what I mean."

"Well maybe I wouldn't have to be so _maternal," _Mary Margaret said with particular emphasis, "if you did a chore or two every once in a while."

"Hey, I just did the dishes!"

"This is true," Mary Margaret said with a moderate sigh. She learned long ago that arguing with Emma was completely pointless, so she decided to change the subject instead. "You've really never made a cake before, Emma?"

"Well, no. You know me, always moving, never stopping. That includes birthdays and holidays."

"Except Storybrooke?" Mary Margaret asked, hopeful.

"Except Storybrooke," her room-mate replied.

"So, does that mean you'll be around for Henry's _next _birthday?"

Emma gave a level look to Mary Margaret, who was flashing a toothy, sanguine grin.

Emma threw the drying cloth at her, laughing. "Maybe... You better watch it though! My greatest fear is sentimentality. If you get too sappy on me, I will flee in terror."

Mary Margaret smiled knowingly, and looked from the cake to Emma. "I'm not so sure about that..."

Emma rolled her eyes, and tried to hide a grin again. "Whatever. I'm going to bed. My kid has a big day tomorrow."

"Good night, Emma."

"'Night, Mary Margaret," Emma replied, making her way to the stairs. She paused at the base of them and turned to Mary Margaret once more, "And really, thank you. I really, _really _appreciate it."

"Any time. You're a great mom."

And as if on instinct, Emma replied with a quick, "Thanks, you too."

Emma was up two and a half steps before Mary Margaret called after her, "Wait, _what_?"

* * *

**A/N2: **Did you like it? I hope you did! Tell me in a review! Every time you leave me a review, MM and Emma will bake together (in my mind). Thank you! I love you!


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